He's not used to this kind of person. She wasn't upset with him. She wasn't disgusted with him. She wasn't SCARED of him.

She even kissed him again, which he leaned ever so slightly into, because it was soft, and each time she kissed him he felt something burn through his chest like a fire he had needed.

When she commented on cooking, on letting her go, he frowned, but he let his hands slide off her hips, reluctantly. It had been the growl of his belly that ultimately forced him to let her go. She was still here. It would be fine.

"You know what I am?"